


My Best Four Years

by TheScienceDepartment



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScienceDepartment/pseuds/TheScienceDepartment
Summary: When Thomas enrolled in Labyrinth Academy, he never expected to meet Newt, a kind boy with fluffy blond hair and a limp, and Minho, a track champion with a penchant for causing trouble. Together, they navigate the trials and tribulations of high school and just might find love where they least expected.





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing Thomas needs before his first day at Labyrinth Academy is junk food and a sugar hit.   
Twenty minutes before arriving at said   academy, Teresa's mum pulls into In-N-Out Burger and blows twenty bucks on burgers, thick shakes and chips. "Come on Thomas, I'm not going to see you for another ten weeks! Let your Auntie Cat treat you to lunch, I know you two are always starving..."   
Thomas sinks his teeth into a Double-Double Animal Style and moans, "Thanks Aunt Cat". Sauce dripped into the paper bag on his lap. "Gotta get my fuel somewhere."   
Teresa laughed. "Yeah, keep those energy levels up, huh, Tom? Wouldn't want you falling asleep on our first day."  
Thomas laughed. He had a tendency to daydream or even doze off during class at their middle school, and in one particularly memorable incident had fallen asleep in the library to be found the next day by a surprised janitor.   
"Hey, it's not my fault Mrs Hartley barely knew the curriculum herself! New school, new start this year, T. I promise."  
Teresa shook her head, blue eyes sparkling with mirth.   
"I'll believe it when I see it, Tom."  
They bickered back and forth for a while, the banter flowing as easily as it always did, washing away their first-day nerves and worries, and before Thomas knew it the car was pulling up in the parking lot of Labyrinth Academy. Students and parents milled about on the grand front steps, lugging heavy suitcases and playing in the slightly overexcited, loud way of nervous freshmen.   
Thomas and Teresa shot each other a quick, panicked look.   
"This is it, Tom. High school. The real deal."  
Thomas turned back to the window. The flurry of activity outside seemed to quieten. This was it. A niggling kernel of doubt seemed to itch in Thomas's brain. It seemed like only yesterday that he was making mud pies and catching tadpoles with Teresa, taking bubble baths together and catching pop up balls in the outfield, meeting his mum at the school gates and walking home in the afternoon sun with Jerry, the old springer spaniel they'd had when he was little. In a sudden rush of nostalgia he wished he could be back at home with his mum and Jerry and even his dad, before he'd left for good, with grass stains on his knees and not a care in the world. He turned back to Teresa.   
"Come on," he said, and shot her a smile. "I think it's time we find out what we're really up against."


	2. Greenie

Thomas jabbed the down button on the elevator and waited. The orientation had gone fairly well and he'd received his key from his homeroom teacher, a skinny man with grey hair and a white coat who had introduced himself as Professor Janson. He'd seemed nice, but he was head of the maths department, so Thomas suspected that all may not be as it seemed. He was thinking about the Professor when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Thomas looked down and on the lift floor were two boys who looked about his age. One was rather thin, with a shock of fluffy blonde hair, and the other looked to be of Asian descent and had a large, rapidly swelling bruise on the left side of his face. The blonde kid frowned up at Thomas, who was already moving.   
"Is he alright? What happened?"  
"Gally happened", said the blonde, grimacing, and Thomas realised he had a strong British accent.   
"Who's Gally?", Thomas asked, lifting the Asian kid's head from the blonde's lap and stretching his eyelids back to see the pupils dilate.   
"Gally P. 'Bout 6"2, light hair, eyebrows of Satan?"  
The elevator doors closed and the lift began to sink, rattling down the fluorescent-lit shaft.   
Thomas snorted and looked up from the seemingly unconscious boy's face into a pair of clear brown eyes and a pixieish face dusted with freckles. He shuffled backward awkwardly, blushing; without realising it, he'd tucked himself right beneath the boy's chin to look at his friend.  
He shrugged.  
"Can't say I've met him." The lift door slid open into a hallway with numbered doors lining the sides. These must be the dorms, Thomas thought.  
"Are you guys boarding here too,"he asked, and the blonde haired boy nodded.   
"Room 866, you?"   
Thomas fumbled with his key, fishing it out of his back pocket and flipping over the plastic tag. 866. He felt a rush of excitement and flashed the tag at the boy, whose face split into a impish grin. "Good, that," he said, and Thomas suppressed the urge to beam at this skinny, pixie-like boy on the grubby floor of an elevator.   
"Look, can you help us out, just grab him and we'll get some ice on that bruise. I carried him from the Glade, but..." And he looked down, away from Thomas's eyes, and seemly unconsciously rubbed his knee. Sensing the boy's discomfort, Thomas lifted the kid from his lap by the armpits and began to drag him backwards out of the elevator. Looking back, he glanced  at the blonde boy, who hoisted himself up from the floor and began to limp after them. He had a curious, slightly rocking, lopsided gait, like his knee wouldn't quite bend.   
"I'm Newt, by the way", he said, and smiled wryly, "and that's Minho. Dumb shank decided to walk up, bold as brass, and ask Gally about his stint at juvie last month." Newt shook his head. "Gally straight-up decked him. All his mates had a go and then they left. Course, this shuck face was out, so I had to drag him to the elevator myself."  
"Damn...," winced Thomas. "Juvie? Really?"  
"Yup." Newt nodded sagely. "Him and his mates, started nicking stuff and that, bashed a couple kids at our old school. Nothing that serious, but one day our Chem teacher caught him and his lot dishing it out to some tiny kid round by the science block and well..."   
Newt fished his phone out of his back pocket and flashed Thomas a picture of what probably used to be a car.   
"That's his car, next day. Crowbar. His mates swore they had nothing to do with it. Ever since, Minho's had a thing for Gally. See, the teacher? Minho's uncle."  
Thomas looked at Newt in disbelief.   
"No! Seriously?"  
Newt nodded knowingly.   
"Yup. Seriously. Landed him a six-week stint in juvie and-"  
For then a curious noise sounded from the Minho, who was still being dragged backward down the corridor, his feet creating two shallow scuffs on the carpet. It sounded like a pained whale, or some kind of enormous frog. Thomas almost dropped him in surprise, and Newt leapt over and grabbed his upper chest, pressing his body into Thomas's side, fluffy hair brushing his chin. He was slightly warm, and Thomas could feel his bony shoulder and his rib cage expand slightly as he breathed. He caught a faint whiff of sandalwood and something else clean, and then Minho made another noise and Thomas grabbed him and hoisted him up a bit and Newt pushed them both into room 866.


	3. Ice

As soon as Newt shoved him and Minho into the room, Thomas dumped Minho on one of the three beds and ran a couple of steps across to the tiny kitchen unit.   
"Newt, chuck us Minho's shirt, can you? I want something to wrap the ice in!" He yanked open the door of the mini fridge and a white tee flopped into the side of his head. It had a knot tied in the bottom.  
"Gotcha!" said Newt, "get as much as you can, we need to keep the swelling down as much as we can, if Gally sees this shiner Minho'll be doomed."  
Minho made another croaky moan and Thomas began shovelling ice and frozen goods into the t-shirt bag.  
"Who's this shank?," Minho croaked, as Thomas pressed the frozen bundle against his purple eye. "New Greenie?"  
"What. Is a Greenie. And what's a shank? Actually, what about a shuck? And the Glade,-"  
"Hey, Tommy, just calm down, aright," Newt chuckled, "Greenie and shank and that, that's all just slang we made up in middle school. Greenie, that's like a newbie. Shank and shuck, they're derogatory, and the Glade... Well that wasn't actually us, that's just, you know the big quad in the middle of the school? All green and big cedars and oaks and that? That's the Glade."  
Thomas nodded. "Fair enough. I'm Thomas by the way," he said to Minho, "Sorry to hear about you and Gally. Sounds like a pretty brave move to try take him on."  
Minho chuckled. "Yeah, it was pretty dumb."  
The boys grinned at each other for a few seconds, and Newt started to laugh. It was light and almost musical, but most of all contagious, and in minutes the three were roaring with laughter. Flushed and happy, despite his eye, Minho pushed himself up from the bed, wobbled, and the colour drained from his face. The other two immediately tensed, ready to grab him if he toppled, but he staggered over to the bunks and yelled "Shotgun top!"  
Newt sighed loudly. "Ugh. Fine," and climbed into the bottom bunk. Thomas was left with the single, it's headboard backing onto Newt's at ninety degrees. He flopped onto it backwards, bouncing on the springy mattress.  
"You guys got your timetables?" asked Minho, and threw a paper plane at Thomas. It hit him in the side of the head with a soft crunch. Newt giggled, still giddy from laughing so hard, and Thomas's stomach flip-flopped a little. He glanced up at Newt, who was laughing and pushing his thin feet into Minho's mattress, and grinned to himself, blush colouring his cheeks slightly. Newt was a nice guy. Thomas shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and unfolded the plane to reveal Newt's time table.   
"Hold on Newt, look," he said, and Newt sort of perked up and craned his fluffy head over Thomas's headboard. Thomas yanked his timetable out of his back pocket and laid the crumpled papers side by side.   
"Look, we have loads of classes together," said Newt, "all the sciences and maths and look, even English. C'mere, Minho. Actually, don't, wouldn't want you to fall off the ladder. Just chuck us your timetable."  
Minho laughed, and another paper plane hit Newt in the ear, and Thomas suddenly realised how close they were, heads bent over the already tattered time tables. Newt giggled as he threw a pillow back at Minho, and smoothed out the paper.   
"Hey Minho you've got a bunch of classes with us too!" Thomas said.  
"Oh great, gotta spend half the day with you shanks in here and the other half with you in school", Minho joked, "with Janson."  
Thomas and Newt flopped back on the bed and groaned.   
"Aw, maths is the worst," moaned Newt.   
Thomas glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. 6:45. If they wanted dinner, they'd better get going. "Hey guys," he said, and Newt and Minho looked up, "dinner's at seven, right? We'd better go soon."  
"Ugh," moaned Minho, gesturing at his eye, "Gally's gonna love this."  
"C'mon, we'll try hide you. Make a little convoy, and you can just hide behind," suggested Newt, and Thomas nodded. "What a slinthead," he said cautiously, unsure about to new vocabulary, and Minho laughed.  
"Picking it up pretty quick, I see, Greenie. We'll make a Glader out of you yet."


	4. Glader

The dining hall was a huge room with a high, arched ceiling and four long tables stretching down the length. It reminded Thomas acutely of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, and he said as much to Minho and Newt under his breath, receiving amused snorts in return. At the back of the room was a long counter, where apron-clad dinner ladies were dishing out food to eager, ravenous students. The hall seemed to be a shared space for all years, freshmen to seniors, and Thomas quickly identified the freshman table, as the students seated there were by far the littlest of the cohort. Abruptly, he felt a warm hand on his wrist. It was Newt, wonder dancing in his clear brown eyes at the great oak tables and the huge, tarnished chandelier, pulling him forward to the huge food table and Thomas would be lying (and he was never very good at that) if he said he didn't enjoy it even a tiny bit.   
Minho whined like a worried dog and ducked behind them and only then as they met the table and a older lady with a kind face creased from smiling asked if they wanted mashed potatoes and that Newt should really eat more, and Barbara, look how thin this boy is, honey, I'll feed you up don't you worry, and made a point of piling Newt's plate with potatoes and sausage casserole, did Newt glance up from under his eyelashes and awkwardly let go of Thomas's hand. 

"Newt!"   
Thomas spun, disoriented, trying to locate the source of the shout, but Newt and Minho were already bounding over to the sophomores table, where a broad boy with dark chocolate skin and a brilliant grin held out his arms to the two and enveloped them in a huge bear hug. Minho was laughing and Newt smiled up like a child as the boy ruffled his hair and beamed. Thomas hesitated, unsure if he should just go find a seat and leave them to it, but Minho was already dragging him over and introducing him to the boy with the confident smile as "Thomas the Greenie" and this was Alby, who apparently was some kind of surrogate big brother to the boys in middle and elementary school, and Alby clapped him on the back hard enough to knock the wind out of him. And then Minho was showing off his black eye, all thoughts of Gally forgotten, and Newt was bouncing on his toes and beaming, and it was like the sun had come out, and as they finally left with their trays and Alby laughed to his Sophomore friends and flashed a peace sign, Thomas couldn't help grinning along with them. They found spots easily along the massive freshman table, and Newt looked at his enormous plate of food with dubiousness and vague, helpless amusement.   
Minho, eyes still bright from the reunion with Alby, raised his eyebrows at it in wordless skepticism and turned to Thomas.   
"You know, Greenie," he said, gesturing with his fork, "Alby's always been with us. We met him in grade four, and we've been at the same schools ever since. He's a year older that us, but we've pretty much always been tight. When Gally...got his stint in the lock-up, Alby was furious. He's always tried to give Gally a chance, I think, but this was way too far. See, Alby really liked Matthews because he taught chemistry, and, well, Alby had always been well liked and pretty bright but chem is his best subject by far. He's a genius." Minho waved his fork at Thomas, a piece of sausage still impaled on the tines, as Newt looked on, eyebrows raised, shovelling food in at a rate of knots. Huh, Thomas thought, I guess he does eat enough. "Anyway, after, Alby was so mad we drove his jeep down to Gally's place, opened the window and egg-and-floured his bedroom. Then we left." Minho shrugged. "He was pissed."  
"Ohh, so that's why he hates you," realised Thomas. "You trashed his place, now he wants revenge. Well, I reckon-what?"   
For the other two had fallen abruptly silent. Newt's brown eyes bugged out of his head like a cartoon character, and Minho was slowly taking on a steely look.   
"Reckon what, shank? He looks like a shank to me, doesn't he?" Thomas turned, slowly, and hulking over him was Gally and two other boys, malicious grins splitting their faces.   
"Yeah, I've decided on shank. So, shank, what do you reckon? Been hanging out with these two slintheads? They told you all about their poor little professor?" And he threw his head back and laughed, then narrowed his eyes at Thomas, who had risen to his feet and shifted his stance to shield Minho and Newt.   
"He deserved it," Gally spat, and that was the moment Thomas decided he really didn't like Gally.


	5. Ignition

Thomas's hands balled into fists. He could feel his fingernails biting into his palms and his teeth ached as he clenched them together. He shifted his footing, pressing back against Newt and Minho, pushing them behind him. A battle stance. Gally's eyes narrowed. A challenge. Thomas net his gaze. I will not be cowed by you, he thought.   
"You want to know what I think? Huh, Gally? I think that you deserved every second you spent inside. What you did to that poor mans car? Please." Thomas raised his hands. "You've clearly got some issues, huh, Gally? What is it? Anger management? Psychosis? Come on, don't be shy...  
Gally's face coloured, a classy beet red. Thomas narrowed his eyes. Point.   
"Y-you can't talk to me like that, Greenie. You're not even-"  
"Ohh," cooed Thomas, "are my words too big for you?" He was certain that he had not only overstepped the line, but had in fact accelerated past it at over a hundred miles an hour and was well on the way to the next county. "Come on, listen here, I'll make it nice and simple.."  
Thomas felt Newt's skinny frame pressed against his back, felt his elbows, shoulders, pelvis dig into his skin. Minho's rib cage rose and fell in gasps as he tried to control his breathing. He'd known these boys not twenty four hours, and already he was defending their honour in front of the entire freshman year. Even some of the sophomores were starting to look over in curiosity. Time to finish this. Thomas clenched his teeth and twisted his mouth in a mirthless grimace.   
"Leave them alone."  
Match.  
Gally's eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. Thomas had just enough time to push Newt and Minho out and away from him before Gally planted two meaty hands on his chest and shoved him across the dining table.   
Thomas skidded through a tureen of pea soup and flew off the other side, hitting his head with a crack on the stone floor. Lights pulsed in his vision and pain bloomed in the back of his eyes. He screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on not puking.   
"Mister Poulter!"  
Thomas's eyes snapped open and he gagged, feeling the acrid taste of bile in the back of his throat. The pea soup clotted in his hair and ran down his face, and he retched again, gasping on the stone cobbles. He vaguely saw a tall, imposing woman running down the aisle and then Newt was there, and his hands were all over Thomas, his thin, shaking fingers on Thomas's face, his chest, his hair, and his clear brown eyes, so full of worry and pain and maybe, just maybe, that fierce glint, was that pride? And Newt was hauling him upright and the chandelier spun like a top above his head and Newt's hands, on his shoulders, on the back on his head as he gagged and coughed into his lap, and Newt gasped, a tiny, desperate sound of appalled shock, and Thomas felt something warm and sticky clotting in his hair and Newts hands were covered in blood, Thomas's blood, and suddenly a hundred faces were looming over him and shouting and Thomas looked at Newt, with dark red on his hands and Thomas suddenly felt very far away and then his vision blurred and his mind blinked out.


End file.
